


The Ginger Pilot

by YellowBananaOwl



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, fairytale, gingerbread au, will eventually become Skipthur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-10
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 01:42:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5689750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowBananaOwl/pseuds/YellowBananaOwl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Martin is a gingerbread man, but what he really wants is to fly. Now is his chance!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Wish

**Author's Note:**

  * For [WingcommanderArthurShappey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingcommanderArthurShappey/gifts).



> For wingcommanderarthurshappey
> 
> Characters belong to John Finnemore

Once upon a time there was a little man who lived in a little house in a little village called Gingerbread-town. His name was Martin, and while the other gingerbread people walked around happily in their little town of gingerbread Martin often sat in his little house, looking out of the window and at the sky dreaming. All he wanted to do was fly. But no one ever made gingerbread planes, so Martin had been made into a man and forced to stay in his little town until someone came and ate him.

 

Martin was miserable. Every day he thought of flying, and every night he dreamed about it. He wondered what it would be like to be up there, zooming in and out of clouds that weren’t made of cotton candy, to feel free. There was nothing else in the whole wide world Martin wanted more.

 

The other gingerbread people looked at him funny whenever he left his house. ”There goes Martin,” they said. ”He wants to _fly_. He doesn’t want to be with us.”

 

They thought Martin didn’t hear them, but he did. This made Martin feel sad and upset, and when he returned to his house he started crying. Huge crumbs fell from his eyes as he sobbed into his slightly burned hands. ”Why do I have to be stuck here? I want to get out and see the world! I want to fly!”

 

Then, on New Years Eve, right before midnight, the day before the town would get smashed and everyone would get eaten, something strange happened. While the other gingerbread people were getting ready to watch the fireworks outside the house their town was in, Martin stayed inside his house moaning about his stupid and wasted life. Suddenly there was a loud BANG, which Martin assumed was fireworks, but then his living room filled with smoke and before him stood a large red baby.

 

Martin gasped and coughed from the strange smoke, which sort of smelled like strawberry.

 

”Who are you?” he asked the stranger who was so big, he had to bend his head to fit in the house.

 

”I’m Brilliant, the magic New Years Jelly Baby,” said the creature. ”I go around every New Years Eve to rescue one gingerbread cookie from eternal damnation. You are Martin, right?”

 

”Yes,” said Martin and looked at the weird baby. ”Why?”

 

”Congratulations,” cheered Brilliant. ”I’ve heard your plea. I’m here to grant your greatest wish.”

 

Martin fell over in shock. His greatest wish? Was this really true? ”Are you serious?” he asked as he got to his feet.

 

”Yes,” said the baby. ”But you must be quick. The new year is about to begin, and you need to make your wish on midnight precisely, or it won’t come true.”

 

”So I can finally become an airplane?”

 

”An airplane?”

 

”Yes! So I can fly!” said Martin excitedly.

 

”Are you absolutely sure about that? I mean, you _can_ , but most wants to become _real_ people. A plane can fly, yes, but that’s also all they can do. It gets boring quite quickly. Also, it’s not very practical considering the restrictions.”

 

”Restrictions?”

 

”The wish comes with a price. Every night at midnight you will turn back into a gingerbread man and stay that way until the sun comes up. And if you go for being a plane, I believe that will turn into a disaster on a night flight.”

 

”Oh…” said Martin, his voice heavy with disappointment.

 

”I _could_ turn you into a bird,” suggested Brilliant. ”But you need to specify which kind.”

 

”Er,” Martin started thinking. Would a big or a small bird be better? Which ones had the longest life expectancy?

 

”Hurry,” said Brilliant. ”Time is running out.”

 

”Wait,” said Martin. ”Who makes planes fly?”

 

”That would be the pilots,” said Brilliant.

 

”Then I want to be a pilot.” Martin was determined. He would fly in one way or another. And as a human it would be easier to watch out for that midnight restriction.

 

”Fine,” said Brilliant. ”Now look out of the window, and when the clock strikes midnight, on the last bong, say the words. ‘I want to be a pilot’.” And with a puff of smoke, the huge baby disappeared.

 

Martin started coughing from the strawberry smoke again just as the clock started sounding. He counted the bongs and when the eleventh one finished he said: ”I want to be a pilot.”

 

He felt himself break into a million pieces and travel through the air like the smoke that has just made him cough.


	2. Parkside Terrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin wakes up as a human. He's more than a bit confused.

Martin had no idea how much time had passed when he woke up on a cold hard floor. He looked around at his surroundings. The room was smaller than his usual living room, and the floor was not made of gingerbread, but of wood. Everything around him was unfamiliar. Martin got up and looked at himself. He looked like a real living person, like the ones he saw on the outside of his old hometown. He wondered if he was as huge as they were.

 

He walked over to one of the walls where a big shiny mirror hung. In front of him stood a human man. ”So this is what I look like now?” he murmured to himself. He studied his face and body for a long time. So this was what he was going to look like from now on? It was a bit strange, but anything was better than living in a gingerbread house and getting smashed and eaten, right?

 

Martin noticed a small board on the wall with some yellow squares on it. He picked one up and read: ”Wednesday, 2nd of January, 8am. MJN Air.”

 

2nd of January? That was tomorrow. Below the board stood a desk, and Martin picked up a sheet of paper; a contract between a Martin Crieff and a Carolyn Knapp-Shappey telling him that tomorrow morning he would start as the captain of MJN Air.

 

Martin gripped the piece of paper to his chest and jumped around in his room shouting loudly. ”I AM A PILOT! I AM A CAPTAIN! I AM GOING TO FLY TOMORROW!”

 

Then a terrible thought struck him: He didn’t know anything about flying a plane.

 

He would crash the plane and die on his first day as a human. This was a terrible idea! He sank down on his bed and his entire body clenched. Why had he agreed to this? He knew nothing about being human, he knew nothing about planes. He would have been better off staying in his house and get smashed and eaten. At least he didn’t have to live his last day in fear of hurting others in the process. Martin looked at the clock on the wall. It was only 10, and it was light outside, so apparently it was 10 in the morning. Why couldn’t it be midnight soon so he could change into his proper self? Martin had never wanted to be a gingerbread man more in his life.

 

Suddenly there was a knock on the door. Martin froze. Who could it be? He didn’t know anyone. He had never spoken to a human being in his life. It knocked again, and Martin took a deep breath and went to open the door. On the outside stood a boy and a girl, quite younger than he had looked in the mirror, but not as young as the small children he had seen running around the house he came from.

 

”Hello,” said the girl. ”We just wanted to say hi and welcome to the building.”

 

”Er… hi?” said Martin hesitantly.

 

”We knew someone was moving in here, but we didn’t know if you were here already until we heard you shouting a few minutes ago,” said the boy. ”Are you okay?”

 

”I’m fine,” lied Martin and blushed. ”That was nothing.”

 

”So we thought we’d drop by and say hello and ask if there was anything you needed help with,” said the girl.

 

”Help?” Martin asked and wondered if they knew anything about flying and would be able to teach him in the next few hours.

 

They continued to ask if he needed help with putting up shelves or if he knew where everything in the building was. He was also told about an old and cranky coffee maker and should talk to someone named Mallory to learn some tricks.

 

”Well, I-I-I don’t really drink coffee. I think,” Martin stammered.

 

”Oh, I’m so sorry,” said the girl suddenly. ”We’ve forgotten to introduce ourselves. I’m Lizzy.”

 

”And I’m Mark,” said the boy.

 

The two of them, lived downstairs along with a Mallory, the coffee expert and someone named Shaun. Martin introduced himself.

 

”Are you a student too?” asked the boy.

 

”A student?”

 

It turned out the house was filled with students at the agricultural college, and they were really curious about who had moved into the tiny attic. They thought it would be another student, but instead they found Martin.

 

”Ah, so do you work here in Fitton then?” asked the boy.

 

Martin nodded. At least that’s what he thought was the right answer.

 

”What do you do?”

 

”I’m a pilot. A captain.”

 

”A _pilot?_  Wow! That’s so cool!” exclaimed the girl. ”Living here in Fitton?”

 

”I knew there was a tiny airfield here, but I didn’t know anyone actually used it,” said the boy. ”But that is awesome. Welcome to the building, Captain.”

 

Martin felt a warm, fuzzy feeling spread through his body now. No one had ever called him captain before. It felt nice. He liked it.

 

The two of them bid him farewell and told him to just ask if he had any questions. Martin had many questions, but none he felt they could help with anyway, so he said goodbye and closed the door behind them.

 

”Captain,” said Martin to himself and smiled. He had never felt so proud.

 

Then his heart sank again. He couldn’t be a captain. He picked up the piece of paper on the bed. Over and over he read the words to himself: ”Wednesday, 2nd of January, 8am. MJN.”

 

That was less than 22 hours from now. Maybe he should just pick up the phone and call Miss Knapp-Shappey and tell her something had happened and that he wasn’t able to take the job anyway. That would be the best, right?

 

Martin lay on his bed thinking it over about a hundred times. He knew he should really let MJN know that he wasn’t coming tomorrow, but at the same time, he really wanted to fly at least once. But flying a plane would mean his death, and probably lots of others too. If only he could think of something clever so that they would take him on the plane, but someone else could do the actual flying. The first officer perhaps. That would be perfect!

 

But Martin had no idea as to what he could use as an excuse to pull that off. He sighed deeply and rose from his bed. It was time to make that call. He picked up his phone on the desk and found MJN’s number.

 

”Hello, MJN Air, how can myself be of assistance to yourself?” said a cheery voice at the other end.

 

Then it hit Martin! How did he know how to call anyone? How did he know that the time on the paper was tomorrow? How did he know what everything was called? How did he know he had a First Officer. How did he know how to read?

 

He hung up the phone and grinned widely.

 

If he suddenly knew all these things, then that could only mean one thing:

 

He would know how to fly a plane!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to John Finnemore for creating these amazing characters. I love playing with them.


End file.
